


Break apart

by ShereneCheri



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Death, Drugs, F/M, Hamish - Freeform, Heartbreak, Lost Love, Other, Parentlock, Sherlock has feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-12 09:02:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShereneCheri/pseuds/ShereneCheri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you loose the person you care about the most, could you continue life?<br/>Sherlock gave a promise, that forces him to live.<br/>Adlock AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prolog

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own anything of SHERLOCK.
> 
> This ff can be found in German here: https://www.fanfiktion.de/s/53eccc820004131e1ad59fcc/1/Break-apart

His heart raced in his chest and his lungs burnt from the heavy breaths. He ran through the streets and tried to find the old abandoned house, where she's been imprisoned.

,,Sherlock. Wait. Please.'', a voice reached is ears. _John._ He kept running till John caught up and grabbed him by his coat. ,,Sherlock, stop please.'', he gasped. ,,Listen. No, listen to me. We can't just run around, we have to search with a system.'' ,,We are running out of time. John. We have to find her.'' ,,I know. I know. Lestrade called the whole yard to look for her. So be still and think. You have to figure out where she is. Come on and try.'' Sherlock glanced at John. He was right. He will find them quicker, if he knows where to look. He closed his eyes.

The call he recieved two days ago was full of background noises. Birds, water and cars and very quietly a train. He tried to combine those facts, but all he could think of was her. Kidnapped, beaten up, anxious. A ringtone brought him back. John got his phone out and answered it. ,,Hello? Oh, Greg.'' John looked at Sherlock. ,,You've found the place...'' Sherlocks eyes widen. ,,Where?'' He grabbed the phone. ,,Where is it, Lestrade?'' ,,It's a warehouse at the thames near the tower bridge.'' Sherlock handed the phone back to John and tried to hail a cab. At this point of time it was nearly a miracle to find one. ,,Ahm, yeah I call you back. Meet us there.'' He hung up and ran to Sherlock, who surprisingly got a cab. He jumped in, John right behind him. ,,Tower Bridge. As quickly as you can.'' Sherlock said.

They got to the bridge with Lestrade at the same time. ,,Where are they?'' Sherlock asked the Detective Inspector. ,,Our source said it is an abandoned warehouse. A witness saw our suspect. Over there.'' he pointed at the old brick ruin. ,,Let's go.'' Sherlock turned around. ,,Wait. I called for backup. You can't go alone.'' ,,I won't go alone. I have John with me. And you.'' ,,Sherlock. It's too dangerous. You know, who this guy is.'' John said still out of breath. ,,We are wasting precious time. She could be dead by now. I have to act now.'' Sherlock said and ran towards the old house, ignoring the protest of lestrade and john. Just a second later both of them were at the side of the consulting. Sherlock cracked the lock at the door and Lestrade and John pulled their guns, Sherlock reached for his flashlight. They crept through the dark hall and looked in every room. Suddenly John stopped. ,,I think I've heard something'', he whispered. ,,Downstairs.'' Sherlock nodded and walked downstairs right behind his armed friends.

The sound of a scream went through the dark. Irene, Sherlock thought and he passed John and Lestrade and tried to locate the scream. They heard some more and just before they reached the metal door, there was a gunshot and the sound of a collapsing body. Sherlock didn't hesitate, didn't even thought about the man with the gun at the other side and bursted throught the door. He kicked the gun out of the hitman's hand and knocked him down. Greg took the gun and handcuffed the unconscious man.

Meanwhile Sherlock and John had reached the body. ,,Irene'', Sherlock whispered. ,,Stay with me.'' her icy blue eyes were painful and her shirt wasn't blue anymore, but blood red. John tried to stop the bleeding, but his jacket was almost blood soaked. ,,Call an ambulance and leave your jacket here, too. _Hurry._ '', John murmured to Greg. The inspector nooded and ran upstairs. ,,Irene. Please. Stay awake. For me. For our son.'' ,,Hamish.'' she whispered quietly and smiled weakly. ,,Tell him, tell him, that I love him.'' She breathed sharply and her eyes flattered. The pain seemed to overwhelm her. ,,You can tell him yourself. You're gonna to be alright.'' He took her hand. ,,Irene! Listen to me. You won't die, you can not die. Please. Stay with me, you gonna be okay.'', he said, tears in his eyes. ,,You have to promise me....you have to promise me, that you will carry on. Please.'' She looked at him. Pleading. ,,How? Without you?'', he whispered. ,,Promise me. For Hamish. For John.'' John looked up as he heard his name, but continue pressing at the wound as the blood flow grew. ,,I love you, do you hear me?'' She opened the eyes. ,,I love you, too Sherlock Holmes.'' She breathed trembling and her hands grabbed his coat. John threw his jacket away, and grabbed Greg's. ,,Sherlock.'', he whispered. ,,We have to get her out of here.'' And then suddenly all the pain vanished from her pale face. ,,Sherlock, promise me, you will carry on.'' she whispered clearly. And for the first time John saw insecurity and despair in his face. ,,What if I can't? Without you?'' he cried out. ,,You can and you will. I know you can. I love you.'', she groaned in pain and then her eyes fell shut.

,,Irene? Irene!'' he took her from John and held her tighter. but she didn't open the eyes again. ,,Sherlock. Stop. She is gone. Leave it alone.'' John said to his friend. Sherlock shook his head and starred at her. ,,Sherlock.'' Greg came back to the basement. ,,The ambulance is...here. Oh...'' John held his hand out and stopped him. Sherlock was glad he hasn't to answer any questions. ,,Go. Leave him alone. He need some time.'' John whispered at Greg. ,,But the...body...'', Greg said. ,,Shut up and go.'', John pushed him to the stairs. Sherlock looked at the woman. His woman. ,,How am i supposed to live without you? Tell me.'' he whispered, but nobody answered and he sat there alone in the dark room, with the only woman he could have ever loved.


	2. Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's true love is dead and now he has to face the challenge of being a father and raising their son alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos, people.  
> I'm glad you enjoy this story.
> 
> I don't own SHERLOCK.

A scream woke up the sleeping man. Heavily breathing he sat up and looked around in his room. He needed a second to think and then he realised it was his scream that had woken him.

It's okay, he thought. Just a dream, a bad dream. If he turns around, she will be there. Curled up in the blankets and her dark hair spread all over the pillows. She would be awake now, because of his scream. She would take his face in her hands, would place a kiss on his lips and force him into the pillows and into sleep again. He remained silent and waited to hear another breath in his bedroom. But there wasn't. It was just him. Irene wasn't here and will never be again. He could feel a tear slipping from his face and then he fleed into his mindpalace. Escaped, into this huge part, she owned. His heart felt like a black hole, empty and devouring.

A cry from the other corner of the room brought him back to reality. He ran a hand through his hair. How should he manage that without her? He got up and went to the crib, where a little boy, hardly more than an infant, with black curls cried. He took him into his arms and rocked him gently. He looked at his son and into his blue eyes, which were so equal to his mother's. He placed a kiss at his son's forehead. ,,What's the matter, Hamish? Are you hungry?'' With the baby on his arm, he waddled from his bedroom to the kitchen and put the little one in his car seat, which was standing on the chair, then he prepared the bottle. 

Pictures gathered up in front of his inner eye, his view was blurred by some tears. He wiped the tears away and breathed deeply. Hamish whined until Sherlock came back and took him back into his arm. Sherlock gave him his bottle and watched his son, until he finished. Then he burped him and lay him back in his crib. He stumbled back to his bed and collapse into his pillows. But he didn't fall asleep again. He couldn't, every time he dreamt, he sees her and the pillows weren't helpful. They still had her scent soaken in them.

The funeral was taking place few days after Moran's trial. Sherlock felt some kind of satisfaction, when Lestrade told him, that the assassin will be in jail for 25 years and even more, because he and John could convince the judge, that Moran is a risk to society. The funeral itself was small, but beautiful. Just him and some friends. Even Mycroft, but at this point he felt anger, how could he... he didn't even know her. None of them had known her as he did. The moment she sank into the grave, he wished to lay there with her. With the only one, except Moriarty, who was already dead, who had understand him and the only one he truely loved. Why did she do that to him?

The days after the funeral were blur, if only. He remembered people, lots and lots of people with their sad faces. He would rather be alone, without those people. But then he looked at John and he knew it would be rude. If there wasn't this damn promise he gave her, he would be with her. Here was nothing, that was worth living for. His son...their son...well, he knew he wouldn't be a good father. A baby needs his mother and not an antisocial father who is continuely on the hunt after bad guys. And John would also cope, he had Mary and he had dealt with his death before. But he had to stay, even if he breaks apart. For her and his son.

He hadn't seen any of his friends for a while. Except Mary and John, who visit every second day. They helped him with Hamish, when he needed a time out, when he needed to be alone. At this time he was mostly in his mindpalace with her or he slept and dreamt of her. Suddenly a small hand stroked his hair.

,,It's gonna be okay, Sherlock. You'll make it.'' He opened his eyes. ,,I can't. Please. I can't.'' Tears soaked the pillows. He turned around and looked at the person on his bed. She smiled beneath her dark curls. Irene, his heart screamed. His mind told him, that it was a illusion. But he ignored it. ,,Yes, you can. You are strong. Do it for Hamish and for...me.'' He just shook his head. ,,I know you can. Fight it. You'll make it. Sleep now...sleep.'' He closed his eyes as he was told. She was right, he'll make it. He had to fight. Within a second he fell asleep and he didn't even hear, how Mary closed the door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N)  
> If anyone wonders, why Mary was there...it's because of the agreement John and Mrs.Hudson had soon after the funeral. If she hears anything odd or unusual, she should call immediatly. Mary went with him and looked after the Holmes Boys, while John was talking to Mrs.Hudson.


	3. A visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lonely star  
> Sits in the sky  
> It starts to flicker  
> and begins to cry.  
> -Anonymos
> 
> A visit at John's.

The sky was dark and the rain was pouring.  
It was like London was crying, too. The dark haired man sat on his bed, the head burried in his slender hands. He had nothing to do. Everything seemed so ordinary, boring, dull. When she left, she took everything with her. He lived only physical. His son started crying and he was glad for the distraction. He closed the curtain as he wanted the rain to keep out. Then he headed to the crib and took Hamish, who was still crying, into his arms.

,,Shh.'' he tried to calm the kid. ,,It's okay. You miss Mommy too, don't you? Shh it's alright. I'm here.'' He gently rocked the baby until he stopped crying. Sherlock slipped the tears from his son's cheeks and smiled sadly. Hamish smiled back and started reaching for his curls. He giggled quietly. Sherlock changed his nappy and dressed him to visit John and Mary. As Hamish started crying again Sherlock took the dummy with pooh bear and put it into his mouth. He packed the changing bag and sat Hamish in his car seat. ,,Mrs.Hudson.'', he called the landlady, while going downstairs. The elder lady came to the hall. ,,Oh Sherlock, dear. You're going out?'' she asked and looked at the bag and the car seat. ,,Yes. Uhm, I going to visit John. I just wanted to say goodbye.'' ,,Oh okay. Well then, goodbye.'' She smiled and went back into her flat. Sherlock closed the door of 221B and hailed a cab. He paid the cab driver as they got to John's house. He took the car seat and looked at the small house. He felt out of place. A perfect house with a perfect little family. Hamish would be fine. He would grow up well protected and in a safe environment.

He rang the door bell and John opened the door. ,,Sherlock. What a surprise...'' He let him and Hamish in. ,,Mary is in the kitchen. Go ahead. I need to get dressed.'' Sherlock nodded, took off his coat and left the changing bag at the hall. He made his way through the hallway with Hamish in his arms. He put the car seat on a free chair. Mary stood at the oven and made french toast. At the table laid a book she was reading and BBC radio was played from the music box. He watched the peaceful scenerie for a moment. ,,Mary?'' His voice was quietly and shy. Mary turned around and looked at him. ,,Sherlock.'' He heard the joy in her voice, that he was finally out of his flat again. He smiled a bit, but it felt weird and wrong. Mary smiled back. ,,How are you today, Sherlock?'' she asked and turned to the stove again. ,,Quite good, i think.'' he replied. ,,Listen, could you watch Hamish for a while? I have things to do.'' He hesitated a bit. ,,Lestrade called me earlier, a case and i can't bring Hamish with me.'', he lied.   
Mary smiled again. ,,Of course. You can put him in his car seat, so I can see him an.'' So Sherlock put Hamish in his seat again, to the same time as john got into the kitchen. ,,Sherlock. Would you like to eat breakfast with us?'' John asked and greeted his godson. ,,Hey, mate. How are you today?'' Sherlock watched him and replied to him. ,,No, I have to go.'' John looked at him. ,,But you have arrived just a minute ago. What's wrong?'' Sherlock shook his head. ,,There is nothing wrong. I, Lestrade called me for a case.'' John looked confused. ,,Shall i come?'' Sherlock shook his head again. ,,No, I can handle this alone. Who should watch Hamish, if not you two? And you've got a job, too.'' Mary and John exchanged a look. ,,Okay, but be careful.'' John said and gave him his hand. Sherlock took it and then hugged him. John was surprised, but didn't resist. Sherlock kissed Mary on the cheek and hugged her, too. Both of the Watsons were surprised and confused about Sherlock's acting. Then the Consulting detective placed a kiss on his son's forehead and stroked his cheek. Hamish immediatly began to cry, after sherlock left the kitchen. Mary took him in her arms and rocked him, trying to calm him.

John went with his friend to the front door and said goodbye again. ,,Sherlock. What's wrong?'' he whispered. ,,Nothing. I'm fine.'' ,,And Hamish? Why didn't you left him with Mrs.Hudson?'' John asked. ,,She had no time. I need to go.'' He put on his coat and his scarf. ,,And John. Tell Mary, she has to feed him. I hadn't the time, he should stop crying after that. Goodbye.'' And then he opened the door quickly and left the Watson's house. Sherlock didn't look back. Moments later he stand at the streets and he felt the rain pour over his face. He breathed deeply and then hailed a cab again.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quite short one, I know. But I think the following will be longer. Sorry in advance.  
> And thanks for the kudos! :D


	4. Home is, where your heart is...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hearts can break. Yes, hearts can break. Sometimes I think it would be better, if we died when they did, but we don’t.”  
> Stephen King, Hearts in Atlantis
> 
> Sherlock visits a place of his past, their past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Sherlock. :)

It stopped nearby a little house at the end of central London, surrounded by a forest and some fields. The red roof seemed to shine in front of the grey sky and the white fassade were as clean as months before. It was a peaceful idylle, but it also broke Sherlock's heart. It had been their peaceful idylle. 

He stood there and simply looked at it, as it would make things undone. Then he opened the small door at the garden and stepped to the front door, which were a contrast to the white wall. He took his keys out and searched for the silver one. He put it in the lock and turned it twice. He placed his hand on the door knob, closed his eyes and the memories, he kept hidden in his mind for a long time, took over.

_A man and a woman, both dark haired and hand in hand, went along the alley full of trees. He smiled the whole time. ,,C'mon we're almost there.'' His curls bounced a little as he rushed through the alley. She smiled back and put some wisps behind her ears. Her coat didn't hide the slight belly which shows her ongoing pregnancy. ,,Sherlock, you don't have to run. It will still be there in 5 minutes.'' But he pulled her continuously to the white garden door. Irene was speechless. There was a house, a little white house with a small garden. He looked at her and was glad she liked it. She pulled him by his coat and pressed a kiss on his lips. ,,Its gorgeous, isn't it?'' he asked her. ,,and it's even better with you.'' She smiled against his lips. They parted from eachother and he pulled her to the door. He reached for the keys, but she held him by his wrist. ,,What is this, Sherlock?'' He smiled. ,,It's a little house, obviously.'' She hit him playfully. ,,It's our house. For our little family. At 221B isn't much space for three people and John pushed me to. He said, that it would be nice for a family to live in an own house. Like him and Mary.'' Irene looked at him. She didn't expect that. An own house for them and their baby. She hold his hand tighter. ,,And what should i do? I mean you've bought a house. From **your** money and i? I do nothing, except carrying your child.'' Sherlock laughed and shook his head. ,,What's this?'', he asked and took her hand. A small ring  glistened on her finger. ,,A wedding ring. So?'' ,,This isn't just jewelry. This means, we are a team and what mine is, is yours. So it's **our** money and **our** child.'' She laughed and kissed him again. She took the key out of his hand and unlocked the door. She wanted to step inside, but Sherlock held her by her upper arm. He smiled at her. ,,Let's do it the old-fashioned way.'' He swung her into his arms, pushed the door open and carried her over the door sill. She kissed him on his cheek. ,,You are a real gentleman.'' He laughed quietly and put her down in the hall. She looked around, happily and then she started to imagine their life. ,,Look. Maybe there the dinning room and there the kitchen...'' She pointed at the different rooms. He pulled her at him and sealed her lips with his. She wrapped the arms around his neck and whispered. ,,I love you. And I always will.'' He kissed her again. ,,For ever.'', he whispered back into her ears._

As the memory fainted, he was in kind of a trance. He was still standing at the door. His heart was broken another time, if this was possible with this little parts. There were only little splinter left, to small to put together again. It was too late. Too late to be healed again. Too late for love. Too late for life. He opened the door very slowly and stepped into the hallway. He looked around with a heavy rock on his heart. Everything looked exactly the same, when they came first came home with their newborn baby boy. They had been so happy. 

And now...everything was destroyed, his life was now a bunch of shattered glass. But this time no one could glue it together again. It was broken too often. This time it was too much. He had given up. Carefully he reached for the rail of the staircase and put his feet at the lowest stair. He wanted to look around for a last time. At this point he was happy for a few months, so unbelievably happy, as he was in his childhood. When he didn't even knew about the odd people outside his family, when he was just the little holmes boy and not the famous detective. Everything was so easy at this point of life.

He looked around with tears in his eyes. In the corner at the back of the living room was a comfortable couch in front of a huge fireplace, made of white marmour. The bright floor was covered by a very soft carpet, matching with the fireplace. A big glass door set the view of the garden free and at the coffee table lay a mug, a pen and some paper, even a soft toy from their son. Almost like the residents of the house would came back at any moment to clean up this mess. But if you look more exatly, you could see that no one was been here for a long time. The roses weren't red anymore and the small dust layer were upon the furniture. He turned away from this sad scenerie and got upstairs.

The door of the children's room was open, like she was here just minutes ago. He took off his black shoes and stepped into the room. The same soft carpet like in living room, but in a wonderful ocean blue. At the head of the room, near the window, was the little crib, made out of finest wood and a little stuffed bee sat in it. It seemed like yesterday as their little son slept so peacefully, protected by Mum and Dad. Desperately he sank to his knees and buried his head in the hands. The tears, he hid from his friends and the society, now ran over his cheeks, his hands and dropped into the carpet. His body was shaking as he sat there, surrounded by stuffed animals and toys. ,,Why? Why?'' over and over again he whispered those words. But he didn't get the answer. Never would. He raised his head and looked at the big picture at the wall. A young beautiful woman with long dark hair and a tall also dark haired man and in the arms of them a little bundle. Their son. They smiled, they seemed to shine, full of joy. The picture was taken by John, the day they got here. They had loved each other more than everyone could tell and then...then she was killed and took away from him. Brutally torn from the living. The only woman for him, the only one he had loved. Which universe was capable of that? And suddenly he felt boundless anger. He got on his feet. What was wrong with this world? He kicked the crib and threw the stuffed bee around in this room. He turned and then he slammed with his fist through the window pane. Ignoring the blood flowing down his hand, he screamed in pain like a wounded animal. He propped himself on the wall with the bleeding hand and left an ugly impression of it. The tears ran across his face.

,,I can no longer.'' 4 words, 5 syllables, 12 letters only, a whisper. And yet the full truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably not so long as promise. Sorry...  
> Hope you like it anyway.  
> Thx for dropping by.


	5. What do you know?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> or The Last Hurdle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Sherlock.  
> And thanks to theredheadinadress for the comment and the kudo! Appreciate it.

The sun vanished behind the trees and the warm light disappeared. The world was filled with darkness and even the tiniest bit of light was swallowed by the moonless night. The colorful day was replaced by a palegrey night.  
Sherlock Holmes, world's one and only consulting detective, sat in a room, which was once a children's room, a room full of joy and happiness. But now in the darkness the walls faded to black and the toys were only shadows. Some inches away was the stuffed bee, Mary bought for his son. A cold wind blew through the broken pane and he froze. His eyes were closed, as he wished to forget the chaos around him and he wrapped his arms around his knees as it would keep every bad or sad feeling out. He remember the words, Mycroft used to say over and over again.  
_Don't get involved. Caring is not an advantage._  
But he couldn't, they already had goten a hold of him and they wouldn't let him go until he was done.

He gave up all hope to feel better, to get better and it wouldn't come back so soon. It was to late, he knew that and there was nothing, that kept him here. He was a danger to his family. He was broken, barely alive and he had ever chance to get addicted again. This was it, what it started before, a great distress. He loved his son, but he knew he wouldn't be a good father at all. No, his son deserved better. He deserved a well and healthy family, with a Daddy and a Mummy. And he was a danger to his friends. For John, Mary, Molly, Lestrade and Mrs.Hudson. They shouldn't have to worry about him and they shouldn't be in danger because of him. Moriarty had been enough, for all of them. They didn't deserve this.

,,Sherlock.'' He sat there quietly, shocked with his head still on his knees. That couldn't be true. He must have misheard, his senses started to fool him. ,,Sherlock.'' There was it again. This voice. That was impossible. Was he mad? ,,Sherlock, dear. Look at me.'' And finally he looked up. She simply stood there. Beautiful as always. The bullet wound was gone and her cheeks had their rosy color again and her eyes sparkled. But this wasn't possible... was it? ,,You... you are not real... you are dead. How is this possible? ...Am i high?'' She smiled. ,,Why are you here?'', he looked away, desperatly. ,,This can't be real. There has to be a logical explanation.'', he mumbled to himself. ,,Remember your promise.''

Her lips had moved just a bit, her expression was the same. Sad and regretful. ,,You've promised to continue.'' She looked at him. He shook his head with a grim and tears in his eyes. ,,Never. I never gave such a promise.'' ,,Don't you lie. I begged you and you promised. Don't pretend you havn't.'' ,,I have not. I promised to try.'' he said and looked at her. Confused and sad. What was he doing? He was fighting with his imagination. She wasn't there, but it was such a relieve to see her again. Her face and even though it was sad, her smile.  
He got on his feet and pressed his hand against his temples, trying to clear his head. With every movement, she became paler. ,,I tried to fight every day, every hour, every minute. I tried so hard, but i can't anymore. I can't. i...'', but she interupted him. ,,You didn't. You've never tried. You've barely lived those two months.'' ,,Irene, look at me. I'm done. I have to fight it every day in order not to rob a drug dealer, to get high and to escape this pain. To forget those memories. You left me alone and you forced me to stay. And I **hate** you for that.''

He looked at her fury in his eyes and she stepped back a few centimeters. She opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Sherlock. ,,Give me one reason, why i shouldn't do it.'' In his blue eyes were nothing but pain and it broke her heart. ,,Hamish. He needs you...he needs...'', it was a whisper. ,,A what? A father? I can not be a real father. He won't see me for days, when I'm gone and he would be better off with John and Mary. You know that as well as I do, as whole England does. If you can't think of anything else, let me go.'' She knew, he would say that. ,,What about Lestrade? What about your job as a consulting detective? There are still bad people out there. Who would catch them, if not you?'' He smiled and shook his head. ,,They did it before. Scotland Yard has caught killers and kidnappers, even before I came. And those two years, when i was gone, they did well, too. Without me. So, that's not an option. Leave me alone.'' he whispered, but she was just standing there, pale. ,, I SAID GO!'' he hissed and took the bee, to threw it after her. It flew along her head.  
And she gave up. There was nothing that could convince him. Absolutly nothing. Slowly she disappeared into fog and a tear fell to the ground, exactly where she stood just seconds before.


	6. Finally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So we stood hand in hand like two children, and there was peace in our hearts for all the dark things that surrounded us.  
> -Anonymous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 500 hits. You're awesome people. Thanks. :D

The night covered the little alley and the houses were nothing, but black boxes. Nobody was on the streets. The moon was nearer the sunset, than the rise and there were just a few light on. In this cold and clear night nobody thought of anything terrible. They dreamt of the future, the next test, the next day in the office or the upcoming christmas. Only here and there lay someone awake and was worried. About school. Work. Or money. But sooner or later they would fall asleep. And they would dream. About good things. And tomorrow they would wake up, happy and rested. But this wasn't the future of the young man, who was sitting in a dark childrens room at the end of London. There wouldn't be any rest for him. He was trapped in an ongoing nightmare, and he couldn't wake up. Never. He knew that feeling very good by now, he experienced it so many times. But it had always been a morning, a new begining of the day somehow, sometimes. But this time there wasn't a glimpse of the rising sun, no start of the day. He was held in this endless night. He was locked in a cave. A liveless dark cave and there was nobody, who could help him. Because nobody knew it. There was just one possibility, that could end this nightmare and let a new day begin. He knew that and he had no reason not to do it. Nothing and nobody was going to stop him. And everything pulled him away. so why should he resist? Why? No reason. And he resigned. He followed the pull.  
He was at this point many, many times. And always he found an anchor or the anchor found him and didn't want to let him go. The day, his grandpa died, he had his family. The day Redbeard was put down, he had his family too, but mostly Mycroft. And then this fateful day, he died, the day he left John and all his other friends sobbing and sad, there was another one. A little, but strong, blue-eyed anchor, determined to change his world utterly and completly and to rearrange this point of view, who wouldn't let him go.

_The snow was falling in big soft flakes on the ground. The sky was covered with gray clouds, just a few stars were twitching in the sky. The moon was hidden behind the cloud layer and brought _a little bit of light into_ this november night. The tall man was wandering without a destination through the big city. Along the main road, passing by closed supermarkets. The houses lay in the dark, the lamps flickered and didn't spend so much light. The world around him was asleep and nobody saw the dark shadow, who was creeping through the snow. Snow. In the middle of November. He shook his head, but the weather was matched his feelings. Bleakness and boredom. His feet went on and dragged him to a abandoned place. Where was he? Had he been here before? He didn't know. Which was a phenomenon by itself. On the one hand the place was oddly familiar, but he didn't know where from. An old house, nearly a ruin, full of graffiti with boarded up windows. The parking spots were empty and some rubbish was spread all over it. Left alone trees stood there, leavfless at this time of the year, covered by a thin layer of snow. He sighed and made his way towards the house. He was still trying to figure out, why he was familiar with this place. His mind was useless. This boredom was going to kill him, if he didnt do anything against it. He needed work, he needed a challenge. Even this young detective inspektor from scotland yard hadn't a case for him. Lestrom or Les..., Les-something. Well, Sherlock thought. This inspector promised him to assist in some cases and he promised to stay clean. Lessomething didn't keep the promise and sherlock was bored to death. So he didn't have to either. He opened the already broken door and got in. Underneath his feet a track was created and revealed his way. But it was covered by snow within seconds and in a few minutes there wouldn't be a sign of them. He closed the door as quiet as he could and made his way upstairs. And suddenly he knew. It was the house he used to hide, when his parents were driving him crazy or when Mycroft got on his nerves. He came here and read lots and lots of books. As a teenager he was often here to smoke or to get high. To escape the boredom and the ordinary life._   
_The wind was getting stronger and whistled through the chinks. His curly hair was blown into his face, but he didn't care. There were things more worse than messy hair. Much more worse. He went down the hallway and then turned right. The room was empty and dark. He could see a mattress at the left corner and went straight to it. He took off his coat and his scarf and threw it on the floor. Then he sad on the matress and pulled out a syringe with a clear fluid in it, from his coat. He unbuckled the belt and pulled it tight around his arm. He held it with his teeth and placed the syringe on the crook of his arm. Then he pressed the piston and injected the fluid.... Silence. And peace. Nothing but him. He sighed happily and fell into the dark._   
**_Relief._ **   
_A bright light dazzled him and a continuously beeping was getting on his nerves. He tried to open his eyes, but his head was hurting. as if someone hit it with a hammer. He couldn't remember anything. He just remembered a cold night and a house. He groaned in pain and felt a needle in the back of his right hand. He lay in a bed, he realised and his left hand was held by another. He opened his eyes just a bit and saw a shape. A person, a man. He tried to focus on this and he sighed, as he recognised his brother. Mycroft Holmes sat at his bed in a hospital. ,,Sherlock.'', he said without a look at him. ,,What are you doing here?'' Sherlock croaked. mMcroft closed the book, he was reading. ,,Do you really have to ask?'' No, he didn't, but he wanted to hear it. And Mycroft knew, he read it in his eyes. ,,Because I worry about you. You are my brother.'' Sherlock looked at him and into his brothers grey eyes. Sherlock took a deep breath and closed his eyes again. Within a second he fell asleep again, but he was still holding his brothers hand. And maybe...maybe it would make sense._ _someday. Everything he did, he do, he will do. His life. And he would wait. And then maybe he wouldn't need an anchor anymore._

And he waited. He had no idea how, without his ,,habits''. He just went on with his life and waited. He had no idea what for. Then he met John. A soldier. And even more, a broken soldier, traumatized and as broken as him, but in another way. Sherlock and John complemented eachother. They became friends, they helped eachother, they accompanied eachother. His life changed, when they met Irene, or Ms.Adler at this point. Sherlock knew there was something about her, something special. Something like...him. And now...now he was useless. He helped john and maybe helped himself, too. But now John had Mary, another person, who would keep an eye on him. And his own anchor was gone and nothing held him back. There was no reason to stay and thousands to go. So why not? Leaving everything behind, would be the best. Slowly he got up. On the eastern direction was a thin sparkle of the rising sun and the light shined through the broken pane. He looked at the hill behind the house. Now he could go. Finally. And he would do it, because no one needed him anymore.

John had Mary, his own anchor and a person would watched him.  
Irene was gone. Why should he stay here, if he can be with her?  
Scotland Yard wouldn't miss him a bit, especially Anderson and Donavan would certainly not.  


And Hamish would be fine without him. He would grow up with his god father and his wife. He knew that Mary and John adored his son and they would raise him properly. And even though he loved hamish too...but looking at him, meant looking into her eyes and watching her nose twitch, whenever the sun tickles it. It was so much pain. No. There was no need for him. He could go.

**Finally.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the hospital scene was dedicated to this ( http://daretobeboring.deviantart.com/art/Oh-Brother-Mine-217677810 ), which is such a good painting. Thanks to the artist.


	7. I quit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I say I'm okay,  
> but I'm done lying.  
> -  
> Forever has 7 letters,  
> but so does goodbye.
> 
> Sherlock is about to quit, John is about to freak out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Sherlock and all the related characters!  
> And thanks to all, who left kudos or comments. You are awesome.

**Sherlocks POV**   


It was still cold as he made his way back to town. He had locked the house again and left the keys under the door mat. He wouldn't need them anymore.  
Now he scurried through the shadows and tried not to be seen. The traffic wasn't as bad as usual, but to be sure he avoided all main roads and took his secret passages. Then he got to his destination.  
The golden letters were shining in the grey fog. He looked left and right and then ran to the door, he took the keys out as quickly as he could. He let himself in and closed the door quietly, not to wake his landlady. He crept upstairs into their room.  
_Their room. ___Sherlock couldn't thought of it as his room. He shook his head to get rid of this thoughts. He searched in her drawers and under the bed. But he didn't find it. Sherlock tried to think. Where could it be? Where could she hid it?  
Then a smile stole itself into Sherlocks face. HIS drawer. A few seconds later he held her keys in his hand. He closed the drawer and the room, possibly for the last time. He wandered to the old fireplace, touched his violin and moved Billy, the skull a bit. It was looking to the window now. Sherlock silently went to the stairs and closed the door.  
At the point, when he was nearly out of the front door, Mrs.Hudson surprisingly came out of her flat. She looked at him. ,,Forgot my keys.'', he said smiling. He turned to the door and closed it behind him. Leaving behind a confused Mrs.Hudson.

**Johns POV**  


John went up and down in his kitchen. This was a non sherlock-typical behavior, he experienced that day before. He tried to get rid of that thoughts and he was able to, but just during work.  
As soon as he had nothing to do, or even when he looked at Hamish, those thoughts and worries came back. He was confused. That they should watch Hamish, he understood, but his friend wouldn't leave to a crime scene without him. And Greg would've called him too, would he?  
 ,,John, stop it!'' Mary called. John looked up. His wife looked at him, annoyed and with their godson in her arms. The little boy was still whining. He sighed. Mary had fed him, changed his nappy and tried the dummy, but she couldn't calm the kid. He kept his godparents awake for half of the night, until he became tired and fell asleep. ,,What's wrong with him?'', she asked. John shook his head. ,,He is probably just missing Sherlock. Speaking of which, did he acted weird yesterday in your opinion?''  
Mary smiled. ,,Isn't he anyways?'' John looked at her. ,,I meant weirder than normal. He acted strangely. Stop laughing. I'm serious. He never hugged me before and he wouldn't leave alone to a crime scene.'' Mary put her godson in the nearby crib and turned back to her husband. ,,I see. You're mad at him. You don't want to be useless. Right?'', she asked. ,,No! That's...I'm not...er...listen. I saw him like that before. It doesn't mean anything good. The last time he was so secretive, was at this Reichenbach incident. And as you know, it didn't end well.''

**Sherlocks POV**  


He looked along the street. Nothing had changed, except the persons. The sun bathed Eaton Square in her light. Sherlock wandered to this special number. He hid behind a car as he saw the door opening.  
It was Kate, Irene's former assistent. She closed the door and got in her car. She drove right beside him and at the point, she turned into traffic, Sherlock got out of his hiding place. He rushed this last steps to the door and opened it with shaking hands.  
The black door snapped open with a click and Sherlock got in. He felt odd. It was like their first meeting. Even his jaw itched a bit, where John had hit him before. Sherlock smiled at this memory. He stepped into the room, where they first saw eachother. He remember her. Completly naked and he could only imagine, how his face must have looked.  
He never asked her about it.  
There was so much he hadn't asked. And he regreted it at this point. He had seen her as a matter of course. Now he knew how unique she was.  
He looked into the mirror on the wall. His face was reflected by it, and also was Irene's, but Sherlock knew it was just his imagination. He turned away and left the room.  
He made his way upstairs and went straight to the bedroom. Sherlock closed his eyes for a Moment, as he smelled her sent all over the place. Before his closed eyes he saw her face, her smile, when they lay together in bed in the morning. He opened his eyes. Soon, he would see her again.

**Johns POV**  


BBC one was on and Mary sat on the couch with Hamish in her arms. He fell asleep 10 minutes ago and she was afraid, he would wake up if she moves. Luckily she had switched on the telly before and now she wasn't that much bored.  
,,I'll do it.'' John said storming into the living room. ,,Shh. He is finally sleeping.'' Mary whispered. ,,Sorry, but I will call Greg now. Sherlock is not answering his phone.'' Mary looked at him. Amused and concerned. ,,Do you really have to do that? He is a grown-up man. You're being ridiculus.'' John nodded, but more to himself than to her words. ,,You're gonna call him anyway, don't you?'' She smiled as her husband dialed for the DI. They waited and there was only the voice of the weather expert announcing the weather for the next days left in the room.  
John heard a crackle noise. ,,Finally. Greg, it's John. What? Yes, I'm fine....well, we don't know. Did you see him?...What do you mean? He told me there was a case...'' He looked at Mary. She sat straight up, waking Hamish. He started crying. Apparently John had forgotten about the phone. ,,What? Oh, yeah. I'm still there. No, it's Hamish. Sherlock left him here and went for the ''case''.... Look, we... _I'm ___a little worried. What? Of course, I tried to phone him, I texted him, too. No, he isn't answering. Could you come around? If it isn't inappropriate, of course. Yeah right, see you in an hour. Yes, goodbye.'' John looked at his wife again.  
Both of them hadn't a good feeling.

**Sherlocks POV**  


Sherlock sat down on the white rug in front of the bed. His face burried in his hand. He saw her face in kind of a blur, because of this drug he gave him. Her red lips, that whispered. ,,Goodnight, Mr.Sherlock Holmes.'' The memory was like a sharp knife, which was drilled right through him. The pain was unbearable. ,,Irene. Irene. Irene.'', he whispered.  
Slowly he let his hand slid into his left pocket and pulled out a small phial. The red fluid, almost dark like blood, literally screamed ,,Danger! Do not drink it!''. But this wouldn't stop it. Death -or better relief, was exactly what he wanted. He waited to long. To forget every pain, to leave everything behind. He opened the phial, which would seal the end of his life. He put the bottle on his lips and swallowed the fluid. It was horrible. His mouth became dry immediatly and he started feeling very hot. The phial still in his hand, he pulled out a photograph from his coat. It was taken at her wedding day. It wasn't anything special, but she was so unbelievably happy that day. He patted the photo. Then he waited. He waited for the poison to work. The guy, who sold it, said it was strong. Exactly what he wanted. First of all he thought of a final shot, but he knew, that Irene wasn't fond of drugs and his former addiction. And he didn't want to go in a way, Irene wouldn't approve. Soon he would see everyone again, her, Redbeard and others he lost. For the first time in months, he felt like, happy, whilst his life started to end.


	8. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shadows dance; eyes fall silent into the peace of eternal sleep.  
> Vague figures quiver around the lifeless shell of one unable to speak.  
> I see this transpire before my very eyes.  
> I feel the warmth of glory with the coming of my demise.  
> by J. Allen Wilson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Adlock-flashback time. Hope you enjoy! :D

The entrance hall was big, but not as big as he expected. He looked around. It definitly had her style. Sherlock passed the receptionist without being seen and went to the second floor. He stopped at room 294 and hesitated for a second.  
He had no idea, what he was expecting and it bothered him. He hadn't seen her for a while. 8 months 2 weeks and 4 days to be exact, and he didn't know how she might react. Finally he knocked on the door. Then he heard some noises.  
The door was opened and the Woman stood in front of him. He tried to smile, but as he saw her face, it vanished. She had been crying. A lot. Because of him? As she recognised him, tears formed and she began to shake. ,,Sherlock...Sherlock.'', she whispered.  
Then she collapsed. Sherlock caught her before she hit the floor. She was light. Lighter than in Karachi, when he last saw her. He had her in his arms and closed the door with his foot. Sherlock lay her on the couch.  
,,Irene.'', he said. He shook her a bit, until she opened her icy blue eyes. Irene smiled, until she noticed, it wasn't a dream. She jumped up and moved away from him. ,,I thought you were dead.'', she whispered. Sherlock smiled apologetic. And Irene freaked out. ,,HOW COULD YOU? I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD. I CRIED THE LAST TWO WEEKS BECAUSE OF YOU, ONLY TO FIND OUT YOU'RE ALIVE?! You could have called! I hate you.'' With every word she stept closer to him and pushed him against his chest, but with the last one, she sank onto his chest and soaked his jacket with her tears. She wept and sobbed and Sherlock couldn't do anything, but holding her and stroking her hair. ,,I thought, I'd lost you. Promise me, never to do this to me again.'' she muttered.  
,,Promised.''

***

Sherlock snapped around in 221b and tried to find his instruments. John smiled. It was like he never had been gone. The detective and his blogger. He was back a few weeks and Lestrade already had a case for him. Like old times. Sherlock had called him to ask for assistance. John was pleased, that Sherlock had thought of him. And it was his day off, so he accepted. He was glad to be back on the road.  
,,Did you find it already?'' John asked amused. Holy mess! Sherlock looked at him. _Ahh_...a moan went through the room. John's glance shoot at Sherlock. He grinned and reached for his phone. ,,She is also alive??'' Sherlock looked at him. ,,Is it really that surprising?'' John shook his head.  
No, it wasn't.  
Not, if your best friend's name is Sherlock Holmes. ,,When were you going to tell me?'', John asked. Sherlock shrugged his shoulders. ,,It was irrevalant.'' John nodded slightly distracted. ,,And what did she text you?'', he asked again. _,,You're all over the internet. Come to dinner at 8pm. IA''_ Sherlock put the phone back in his pocket. ,,The usual stuff.'', he said with a smirk. He grabbed the instruments, which lay on the side table and went to the door. ,,They were there the entire time!'', John called out. Sherlock glarred at his friend like: _really..._

***

John was gone. He had gone to work or was with Mary. Sherlock didn't know and didn't care either. And Mrs.Hudson was downstairs. And he was alone. And bored.  
Sherlock sat in his armchair and glared at the wall. The smiley grinned back. Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes. There was nothing to do for him. John had confiscated the gun, so that he couldn't shoot the wall and he wasn't in the mood to play violin. He heard a noise coming out of his bedroom. Maybe a burglar or better... he would prefer _any kind_ of distraction than this stagnation.  
He smiled weakly. ,,God, I'm so bored. I wish for trouble.'', he muttered to himself. ,,Maybe, I can help you with this.'' A silky soft voice reached his ears. His smile grew wider. He hadn't expected this. He opened his eyes. She stood in the door frame of his bedroom. Her dark hair was floating down her back and her eyes sparkled. ,,How?'', he asked, hiding his joy and ignoring his beating heart. She walked towards him, crossing the living room. She wore one of his dressing gown, his favorite, the blue one. Still smiling she sat down on his lap.  
Their faces just inches away from eachother. ,,I don't know. Your choice.'', she whispered. Her breath caressed his face and he could smell her perfume. Peach, raspberry and just a little note of honey. Sherlock frowned and tried to figure out, which perfume it was. He'd never smell it before. ,,Don't try.'' she said. He looked at her, confused. Were his thought that obvious? ,,Own creation.'', she answered to his unspoken question. She stroked his cheek and smiled again.  
Sherlock's heart was beating faster, that it was healthy, but he knew her's was, too. This feeling was not really new to him. He feels it every time she is with him. ,,What are you doing here?'', he asked quietly and came closer. ,,Aren't you happy to see me?'' She moved towards him. Her nose touched his and he could almost taste her. ,,Who said I'm not...'' He teased her. She smiled and burried a hand in his hair. With a fast and fluidly move he had her in his arms and kiss her softly, after being seperated from her for months. She smiled against his lips.

***

John's face was priceless.  
When he entered the living room, both of them lay on the floor, completly naked as it seemed and only covered by one of Sherlock's sheets.  
Sherlock had her in his arms, a curly wisp around his finger und kissing her nose. He was like in dreamworld. He had just eyes for her.  
John had to clear his throat, so that they would notice him already. Both of them looked at him. Shocked and surprised.  
,,John? What...what are you doing here?'' John was pretty uncomfortable. ,,Uhm.. I... I..was... Should I leave?'', he asked or nearly begged them.  
Irene and Sherlock changed a meaningful glance. Then Sherlock got up, pulling Irene with him. ,,You remember Ir... Ms.Adler.'' John nodded shy. ,,How could I not?'' Irene smiled. ,,Congratulations, by the way. To your wedding.'', she added as she saw Johns face. ,,Yeah, right. Thank you. Er...excuse me, but what are you doing here?'', he asked, still a bit uncomfortable. ,,Do you really want to know?'', she asked and looked at Sherlock, who noticed and grinned. ,,Nevermind.'', John said quickly. ,,Sherlock, I need to speak to you. But if it's inconvenient, I can come back later.'' Sherlock shook his head. ,,No, it's fine. I'll get dressed.'', he said and made his way to the bedroom, Irene right behind him. She closed the door. John was visibly distraught, as he heard a deep chuckle, which could only come from his friend. He started to mistrust his senses or his mind.  
Did that really happened? Did he really saw this?  
As he heard the door opens and soon after that the shower, he turned and looked at his friend, who actually managed to dress properly. They sat down in their armchairs. John looked at Sherlock, who smiled constantly. But when he caught John's view, he ran his hand through his curls and over his face and it turned to the professional mask, he used to show. ,,So...'', he cleared his throat. ,,You wanted to talk to me. What is it?'' John was too confused by the scene, to catch a proper thought. ,,John? Are you okay?'' Sherlock asked. John looked at him. ,,Yeah, I'm fine. The case, yes. I got the results from the lab and they match your theory. And i thought you wanted to know that.'' John said quickly. ,,Did you tell Lestrade?'' Sherlock asked. ,,Uhm, yeah.'' John replied. ,,Good. So what is the real reason you visiting me?'' Sherlock asked.  
John replied a bit too fast. ,,Because I wanted to. Can't a guy just visit his best friend?'' Sherlock looked at him a bit suspicious. ,,Not, when he's got better things to do. Mycroft forced you to visit me.'' John stayed silent. ,,So, it is my brother. I wonder why. Tell me.'' Sherlock said.  
John sighed. ,,Because he worries. And I do, too. You didn't came out of your flat and there was hardly any movement, well and he thought...um...he...'' John stuttered at the end. ,,But I see, you're rather busy these days.'' John said with a smile. ,,Jealous, Dr.Watson?'' Irene walked out of the bath, drying her hair with a towel and wearing the purple shirt from the detective. Sherlock smiled. And John also let a small smirk take over his features.  
She sat down on Sherlock's lap and John could tell from his look, that he was invisible to them now. ,,I better leave. See you, mate.'' John smiled at the random wave Sherlock gave him as the sign, that he understood.

***

The sunset was beautiful.  
But he just had eyes for her.  
He watched Irene, sitting in the bright orange light. Her eyes were closed and she seemed to enjoy the fresh air and the warmth. The ocean whispered and the wind played with her dark hair. His hair was also messed up, but she looked better with it. He always assumed that honeymoon was just about sex. He had called it sex holidays, when John and Mary were away, but now that he was on one himself with the woman he love, he knew it was more.  
A time to relax, a time to be with the person, who means the most to you. It was like vacation from allday life. At first Sherlock wasn't really fond of the idea being on vacation, he thought it would become boring, even with her, but as past events should have convinced him, it wasn't boring at all. Irene had made every effort to make this interesting. They went diving, swimming, climbing and everything else, what you could do here.  
And they played chess, a lot of chess. But none of them ever won. Sherlock was almost sad, when they were about to leave this sunny place and went back to rainy London, but then he thought to himself that the sunshine, his sunshine was going to come with him.

***

Sherlock woke up, as he heard the bathroom door. The sun was nearly up the rising, he estimated the time to five in the morning. The room was touched with red light, but only his side of the bed.  
He turned away from the door and the window and looked beside him, but Irene was gone. He heard the flush and looked to the door. Seconds later, she came out of the bathroom, pale. She stumbled back to the bed and sat down. Sherlock looked at her, confused.  
,,Are you alright?'', he asked. She smoothed through her hair and blinked at him from behind the dark curls. ,,I don't feel very well.'', she whispered. ,,Come here!'', he said and pulled her to his chest. She was cold, almost freezing. He pulled her tighter and covered both of them with the blanket again. Irene snuggled up to him and pressed her face on his chest. Sherlock could feel something wet, as it dripped on his chest. Irene was crying, he realised. But he didn't say anything. If she wanted to, she would tell him. Sherlock caressed her hair and Irene sighed.  
,,I think, I'm pregnant.'', she mumbled into his chest. His heart skipped a beat, out of fear or joy, he couldn't tell. He always had been good with children and would be very excited to be a Dad someday. Sherlock realised, that he had never asked her about having children. And he had absolutly no idea, how to react.  
There was great silence and Sherlock still stroked her hair and back, until Irene spoke again. ,,So, what do you think?'' He watched her and then chose his answer. ,,Can we call him Hamish?'', he asked and he could feel how she smiled a bit. Irene didn't looked at him, she just mumbled into his chest again. ,,What, if it's a girl?'' ,,Then you pick the name.'' He simply replied.  
She looked up, tears floating down her face and kissed him deeply. He smiled into the kiss and wiped the tears from her cheeks. Then he pulled her even tighter, if this was possible and placed his hand gently on her belly, as it would be something totally normal.  
,,Do you really think, we're going to manage it?'', she asked after a while. ,,Of course.'' Irene turned to him. ,,We are escaped death. We managed Moriarty. Is there anything impossible for us?'' His smile grew wider, he seemed so very happy. Irene smiled. ,,I love you.'', she said. Sherlock buried his nose in her, after peach smelling hair and muttered, ,,I love you, too.''

***

Sherlock paced up and down in the white hallway. He stared constantly at the door. He stopped in his tracks, when he heard two pair of foot coming towards him and turned around.  
John and Mary.  
He sighed in relief. Finally someone to distract him. ,,Sherlock. How are you?'', Mary asked. ,,I'm fine, but I'm not sure about Irene.'' And as confirmation they heard a cry of pain behind the door. Sherlock looked compassionate and held his head. John placed a hand on his right shoulder. ,,Everything will be fine.'', he tried to calm his friend. Sherlock nodded. ,,Yeah, I know. But it always comes to my mind, that I'm responsible for her pain. And the waiting is driving me crazy.''  
Another scream. Sherlock's face was full of agony. ,,Come on, Sherlock. Sit down.'', Mary said and pulled him towards the hard plastic chairs. With one glance from his wife John understood and went off to get some coffee.  
Sherlock had the coffee in his hands, but didn't drink it. He just played with it, keeping his finger busy and his mind distracted, which was quite hard, because of some more cries and groans. And occasionally a curse.  
Sherlock breathed deeply and tried to clear his mind again. He closed his eyes and concentrated. He started to count the ticking of the clock, which was hanging on the wall.  
Tick...tack...tick...tack. He stopped at exactly 10 000, as a new sound reached his ears. Also a scream, but much more lighter and louder. He practically jumped on his feet, John and Mary got up too. Seconds later a nurse came out of the room. A small bundle in her arms. She smiled. ,,Mr.Holmes. Say hello to your baby boy.'', she said and put the newborn into Sherlock's arms.  
He was tiny. His dark hair clung to his tiny head and his eyes were closed. Sherlock didn't dare to move with this tiny human on his arm. The little boy snuggled into his blanket and settled onto his chest. He looked at him and turned to his friends. ,,I...i have a son.'' Tears of joy ran across his cheeks. His son moved a bit in his arms and yawned. Sherlock felt a warmth inside him. He smiled and took a proper look at him. He was the perfect mix of his father and his mother. ,,Oh my god. He is so adorable.'', whispered Mary. ,,He is. Congratulations, Daddy.'', John said. Sherlock looked at his son. Then he turned back to the nurse.  
,,Can I see my wife?'' The nurse nodded. ,,If you want to. But she is very exhausted and probably asleep.'' ,,It's fine. I just want to be with her. Please.'' She nodded again and opened the door for him and his son. Sherlock looked back at Mary and John. He smiled at them and they smiled back. Then they left off to the cafeteria, to give the happy couple some privacy.  
The nurse closed the door behind them and Sherlock looked around. Irene lay in the white bed and seemed to be asleep. Her forehead was still sweaty as he bent down to kiss it. Sherlock was carefully, not to hurt his newborn son. Irene sighed and smiled a bit. Sherlock did too.  
But all of his attention was brought back to his son, as he started crying. Sherlock rocked him gently and tried to calm him. ,,Shh. It's okay. You don't want to wake up Mommy, won't you?'' He smiled as his son opened his eyes and starred at him.  
It was the same icy blue color like Irene's. ,,He is probably just tired.'', said a voice from the other side of the room. Sherlock turned around and smiled widely. ,,Hey. How are you?'' Irene smiled weakly. ,,Tired.'', she replied. Sherlock went to her and placed their son in her arms. The little infant yawned again. Irene stroked his cheek and his little fist, which had struggled its way out of the blanket. He grabbed the finger immediatly and held it tight. ,,He's so small.'', she whispered. ,,He'll grow.'' Sherlock said with a grin and wrapped his arm around her. ,,You've done brilliantly, Irene. He is beautiful.'' Irene smirked. ,,I've heard you patrolling in the hallway.'' Sherlock smiled.  
A knock on the door let them wince. ,,I'm sorry to interrupt, but you have to sign some papers, Mr.Holmes.'' Sherlock got up and kissed his wife and his son on the forehead. ,,I'll be right back.''  
Few minutes later, all of the papers were signed and Sherlock had a copy of them in his hands. _Hamish Adler-Holmes_ was written on it. He opened the door to the room and got in. He smiled, when he saw that his wife and his son were soundly asleep. Sherlock went towards them and got his son back into his arms. He moved slightly, but didn't wake up. Sherlock put him into the crib nearby the bed.   
As Sherlock turned back to Irene, she had moved in the bed. ,,Come here, Sherlock.'', she mumbled. ,,I've missed sleeping next to you.'' Sherlock smiled and did as he was told. He wrapped his arms around her and whispered ,,I love you, both of you.'' He watched his wife and his son sleeping. He had never been happier. And he promised to himself to keep this bright scenerie in his mindpalace forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.  
> Feel free to leave a comment or kudos. I appreciate both. ;D  
> I don't own Sherlock and/or related characters.


	9. Worries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Each heart has some pain, only the way of expression is different. Some hide it in their eyes, while some hide it in their smile.
> 
> A little bit of teasing for u guys.  
> John POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Sherlock and/or related characters.

John was nervous.  
He played with his finger and hummed quietly, which drove his wife crazy. She was in the kitchen making tea and watching over her godson, who was finally calm. Hamish watched her and grinned now and then. ,,Good Boy.'', she said. The four month old smiled. ,,And there is a bright smile.'', she said smiling too.

John came into the kitchen. He kissed his wife on the cheek. He saw that Hamish smiled. ,,Hey little boy. Are you finally happy with us?'' He smiled and stroked the boy's cheek. ,,I just hope he will be, when it's nap time. He will be up all night again, if he doesn't sleep.'' John nodded, but was visibly distracted. ,,You worry about him, don't you?'', she asked him quietly, avoiding Sherlock's name, because it seemed to make Hamish cry. ,,Yeah, of course. He's my best friend. And I won't lose him again.'' Mary put a hand on his shoulder. ,,He will be fine.'' John nodded. ,,I hope so.'' John turned his head as he heard the door bell. ,,That should be Greg.'', he said and went to the door. He opened it and looked into Greg's and to his surprise Molly's face. ,,Molly-What a surprise...'', John said. ,,I told her about Sherlock and that I was going to visit you. And she wanted to come with me.'' Molly smiled. ,,Okay. Ahm...how about, you come in and we'll talk in the living room?'' John let both in and showed them the way to the living room. Mary was still in the kitchen and John went, to help her with the tea and their godson.

Greg and Molly sat on the couch, Mary and John each in an armchair. Everyone had a cup of tea in their hands and Hamish was in this swing and played with his favorite soft toy. ,,So.'' Greg finally broke the silence. ,,What is this about?'' John cleared his throat. ,,Well. As I told you, he visited us yesterday and left Hamish here, because he went off for the case. But as you told me on the phone, there was no case. So he lied to us...'', John told them. Mary cut him off. ,,What John tries to say is, that our friend is nearly been gone for a day and a night. And we thought he just needed a little time out. Usually he picks up Ham at 8 pm again. And John and I wonder, if something has happened to him.''

Greg put down this cup. ,,Come on, John. You should know better. He is a grown-up man. He managed nearly every villian or murderer. He can look after himself.'' Molly nodded. ,,Greg's right. He will be fine. I think he just needs some distance. Previously he was already gone for days. I mean it's Sherlock...'', she said, but was interrupted by John. ,,No...sh..'' John cursed quietly and got up, as Hamish started to cry. ,,What did I do?'', Molly asked confused and looked at John, who tried to calm Hamish in his arms. The little boy calmed down quickly and was silent after Mary put the dummy back into his mouth. John kept him in his arms, because he didn't want him to cry again. ,,He always starts crying, when we mention him by his name. I guess he misses him. He was never without him longer than a day.'', Mary responded. ,,Sorry, I didn't know.'' John shook his head. ,,It's not your fault. We found out this morning.'' He gave her a smile and turned back to Greg. ,,What should we do?'' John asked and suddenly remembered Sherlock's eyes, when he left. He looked so broken, empty and with no hope.

And that was scary. But he wouldn't do anything reckless, would he? He had a son, who needed him. John tried to get rid of these thoughts and shook his head. ,,What is it John?'', Mary asked quietly. John looked at her and then at his friends. Everyone's eyes were on him. ,,I don't know. It is just... i have a bad feeling. Sher...He was never away for that long time, besides something important occured. Last time he was about to do something stupid...'' ,,...And you are afraid, that he is about to do so again.'', Molly completed his sentence. Greg looked at her.

The nice atmosphere was gone and the room was tense. ,,Maybe we should call his brother.'' Mary suggested. ,,No. He would probably say the same thing about him.'', Greg said. Right at this moment John's phone rang. He handed Hamish to Mary and reached for his phone. Hopefully it was Sherlock. He frowned as he recognised the number. ,,Mycroft?'' Everyone in the room gasped. ,,Hang on. I put you on speaker phone.'' They heard a crackle. ,,So, what is it Mycroft?'' A cough. ,,Well, i wondered if anyone of you know, where my brother is.'' They looked at eachother. ,,No. Why? Didn't you found him on CCTV?'' John asked. ,,He knows, where the cameras are. And he knows, how to avoid them. That's the reason, why I'm so concerned. Usually he doesn't make such an effort, not to be seen.'' ,,We are worried too. He hasn't called or told us, where he was going. Maybe we should look for him.'', Greg said. But Molly pointed out, that he could be everywhere. ,,Yeah, but we could try the most likely locations.'' Greg looked at them. ,,Okay, where could he be? What are you thinking of in the first place?'' Mary asked them. ,,The house, he and Irene bought.'', John said. Molly had another idea. ,,The cementary or the morgue.'' ,,Bakerstreet.'', Mary said. But John shook his head. ,,Mrs.Hudson would have called, if he was there. But we can try.'' ,,Don't forget his boltholes. There are five of them.'' Mycroft said.

Greg nodded. ,,Fine. We split up. Greg, you'll go to the cementary. Molly can look in the morgue and I will go to the house.'', Mary said. Everyone agreed and Greg added, that he can instruct Donavan and Anderson to look in the boltholes. Mycroft could send him the adresses. John would remain here, if Sherlock comes back and they also needed someone to watch Hamish. They agreed to meet up here again in 30min.

All of them went and John was hoping, that someone would find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thx for reading!  
> Feel free to leave a comment or kudos.


	10. The search

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and the others are going on the search for Sherlock to hopefully prevent the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long pause. :)

**Gregs POV**

He headed to the silverish car at the other side of the street and got in. The DI sighed deeply and then reached for his phone. The text symbol blinked. He opened the text and read the adresses of the two other boltholes Mycroft texted him. Then he dialed Sergant Donavan. She answered after the second ring. ,,Donavan. It's Lestrade. Go and fetch Anderson. You will go on a hunt. We or better you, need to find Sherlock. He's got five known boltholes. I'll send you the addresses. No... No questions. Just do it. And call me immediatly , if you find him.'' He put the phone down and started the car.

It took him less then 30 min to reach his destination. He stopped at the little cemetary outside Central London. It wasn't far from the cemetery, where Sherlock was ,,burried'' three years ago. Greg shook his head. This was different. The person, whose grave he was going to visit was really dead. At the front of the cemetery was a small, but beautiful church. Greg looked around. Every grave was clean and in his own way beautiful. He walked on the small path among the graves towards one of the newest. The engraved letters were still very good readable. The golden letters shined like stars from the black marble. Irene Adler-Holmes, it simply said. Sherlock wanted it like that. It was all _they_ needed to know. Greg remembered the funeral. It has been small. Just Sherlock, John, Mary, him and Molly and Mrs.Hudson. Even Mycroft came by to bring his condolences. Irene had become one of their best friends. Especially for Mary and Molly. She has been since the engagement with Sherlock. He was perplex, when he heard of it, like the rest, except one. John apparently knew her and that one night he told him the whole story. Greg cleared his throat and looked around. Nobody was there, except him. Everything seemed abandoned and cold. The wind blew firmly and messed up his greyish hair. Maybe he was at the church. Or at the way around the cementery, he thought and pulled his coat tighter. He left the grave and went around the church, but it was also empty. He got to the church and opened the door. It was cold inside and music was played quietly. It stopped as he walked through the hall. He heard steps from behind and the priest got up and went towards him. The light, which shined through the colorful windowpanes, threw a rainbow on his robe. His hair was white and he wore glasses. ,,Good morning. How can I help you?'' He smiled friendly. Greg smiled back, even when he wasn't in the mood. ,,Good morning to you, too. I'm Detective Inspector Lestrade.'' He pulled a photo out of the coat and showed the priest. ,,I'm looking for this man. Did you see him? His name is Sherlock Holmes.'' The priest frowned. ,,Holmes... Holmes.'' He tried to remember. ,,No. I don't think someone like that was here in last few days, but the name rings a bell. Isn't that the man, who lost his wife a few months ago?'' Greg nodded sadly. ,,The poor man. He looked so desperate and then with the little child. There was no life in his eyes, he looked so alone.'' The priest's voice got silent, almost like he talked to himself. Greg cleared his throat. ,,He has been gone since yesterday. We are very worried about him. Could you please inform me, if you see him here?'' Greg looked at the priest and gave him his card. ,,He probably needed some time. But i'll keep my eyes open.'', he promised. ,,Thank you very much.'', Greg said and took his hand for goodbye. The DI left the church and crossed the cemetary in hurry. He took a deep breath and shook his head. Then he called Donavan to get new informations.

 

**Mollys POV**

Sherlock was gone. He was gone. Again. Molly rushed throught the hallway of the St.Bartolomew's hospital. Her bag kept on falling off ofher shoulder, but she ignored it constantly. She pushed the door to the morgue open and went in. She tried to catch her breath and looked around. No Sherlock. She looked everywhere, but she didn't found him. Molly cursed quietly. Where was he? Where could he be? She tried to think like him and suddenly had an idea. The lab. _His_ lab. It was in the second floor and it had been one of his favorite places all along. She ran as quickly as she could out of the morgue to the second floor and almost bumped into Stamford. Mike was confused. He wanted to say something, but Molly was already around the corner. She didn't hesitate or knocked and opened the door. ,,Sherlock.'', she hissed completly out of breath. But he wasn't there. She looked in every corner, even under the table, where small children like to hide. Still no Sherlock. Molly dropped her bag and sat down on a chair. Tears were falling down in her lap. Sherlock can't be gone. Not him, too. Molly remembered the day, when he jumped from the roof. Although she knew, he was alive, she has been sad. She thought she wouldn't see him for years and then she was so happy, when he returned after just two. And after he met Irene, one of her best friends, she's ever had, he became a good human. He stopped being rude and annoying, well at least a bit. And it had been Irene, who made him that way. Molly was happy for them. Sherlock was happy with Irene and without her advice and encouragement, Molly would've never gain the courage to talk to Greg. She wouldn't have gone out with him and never found the true happiness. He was perfect for her, and she was perfect for him. She was there for him and she had understand him, especially after his divorce. She smiled, whilst thinking of him. Molly wiped the tears away. She lost Irene already andshe was not going to lose Sherlock, too. She hadn't check one particular place. It was her last way out. Molly got up, grabbed her bag and left the lab again. She reached the stairs within minutes and went upstairs. Molly opened the door and the sun dazzled her for a second. As soon as her eyes got used to the bright light, she looked for the tall man. Molly went around at the roof and even looked down the edge. She had never realised, how high it was. That would easily explain Sherlock's bruised shoulder, when he jumped. But that wasn't the matter right how. Sherlock wasn't here. She buried the head in her hands and sighed. She had to go back. Maybe the others had found him. She went back downstairs and bumped into Mike again. ,,Molly. Are you okay? What's the matter?'', he asked friendly. ,,I'm looking for Sherlock. Have you seen him today? Or maybe yesterday?'' Mike thought for a second and then shook his head. Molly sighed desperatly. Her thoughts were brought back to Sherlock, as her phone buzzed and Greg's number showed. ,,Excuse me.'', she said to Mike and read the text.

 _Found him? G_  Molly sighed and typed the answer.

 _No. You? :(_ _Molly_   Just seconds later, she recieved an answer.

 _Nope. Let's goback to John. Shall I pick you up? G_   She smiled and typed a yes.

Then she said goodbye to Mike and went down to the entrance and waited for the DI.

 

**Johns POV**

Now he knew, what Sherlock meant. John paced up and down in the kitchen Hamish in his arms. He kept looking out of the window for Mary's or Lestrade's car. Just sitting in the living room has driven him crazy and as Ham started crying, John had feed him and changed him, but it hardly took more 10minutes. And still no sign of Sherlock or the others. Now his godson was soundly asleep, but John didn't dare to put him in his crib. It kept him busy. Away from dark thoughts. From Sherlock and the things he could do, he will do. John waited impatiently. Waited for good news. And for his friends, hopefully with good news and the consulting detective. After almost 20 minutes, which felt like hours, he heard a car. John looked through the window. A silver car. Lestrade's car. He sighed in relief. Greg and Molly got out and slowly went to the front door. Now he had to put the little boy in his crib. John managed it, without waking him up and before Greg rang the doorbell. He opened the door and let both of them in. At the Point, when everyone sat in the living room again, John could hold anymore. ,,Did you found him?'', he asked hopefully. Both shook their heads. John put a hand on his head. He had expected that. It was obvious, but hope dies last. Greg spoke first and broke the silence.. ,,He wasn't at the cementary or at Irene's grave. I also went to the church and asked the priest, but he didn't saw him either.'' John looked dissapointed. ,,And you?'', he asked. ,,Nothing. I looked in the morgue and in his lab. I looked in every corner. And I looked at the roof. You know...the roof, he...jumped of. But he wasn't there. I bumped into Mike and asked him and then the guards, but nobody saw him the last couple of days.'' Molly looked at John, apologising. ,,I'm sorry, John.'' John shook his head. ,,It's not your fault. If there's anyone I should blame it's me. I'm his best friend. I should've seen, that he's got problems.'' Greg puts a hand on his shoulders. ,,It's not your fault. It's Sherlock's for not telling us.'' John looked at him, with a tiny bit of anger in his eyes. ,,But he's the one, who is missing, if he had trusted me, it wouldn't be so.'' Greg and John starred at eachother. ,,Don't fight. It's not about whose fault it is. It's about finding Sherlock.'' John sighed. ,,You're right. Sorry Molly.'' ,,Let's hope Mary got lucky.'', Greg said. John and Molly nodded in synch. ,,Hopefully.'' Then they sat there quietly and starred at the clock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd be happy to read your comments. :D


	11. Waiting for Mary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1000 hits. Yey. Now, as a reward another chapter. Enjoy! :)

The time they agreed to meet up again came...and went by. No car, no ringing. No Mary and no informations. Greg had a call five minutes ago from Donavan, who had told them, that Sherlock wasn't in one of the boltholes. Greg sighed and glared at John, which looked even more concerned.,,Do you think, Mary is in trouble? Maybe we should go to the house, too?'', Molly asked quietly as 15 minutes had passed. But just at this moment they heard squeaking tires in front of the house. John almost flew to the door and opened it. In front of him stood a totally dissolved Mary. She was extremly pale and shaking. She fell into her husband's arms and he almost had to drag her into the living room. He sat her down and then went into the kitchen to get some water. Greg and Molly looked at her, concerned. ,,Mary, what happened?'', Molly asked quietly.

Mary breathed deeply and searched for words. ,,I drove to the house and I...I found the key under the doormat and opened the...the door. I...I was in the house and...and everything seemed normal. Like, nobody was there for months. But...then I noticed some footprints on the floor, they had to be fresh. So I follow them upstairs and in the children's room and ...and...'' She stopped and sniffled. John patted her on the back and wrapped an arm around her. ,,...everything was devastated. The toys were spread in the room, like thrown around in fury. Even a window was broken. I haven't noticed at first, because the room is heading to the garden. And at the wall beside it... there....there was a bloody handprint and also on the blue carpet. So many blood. But the worst...'' Mary shook her head and tears ran constantly down her face. John looked deeply concerned. Hamish started crying from the other corner of the room. ,,I'll get him. You listen.'', Molly said as John wanted to jump up and went to get him. ,,I found that near the stuffed bee, I bought for Hamish.'' With shaking hand she pulled a note out of her red coat and gave it to John. He unfolded it and read to the others, what was written there in a very familiar cursive handwriting.

**_,,Dear reader,_ **

**_I don't know, who you are, but probably you're one of my friends. (I can't believe I wrote that word in plural.) When you're reading this, I'm probably already dead. You will wonder, how I could do this to you, but I can no longer. The pain destroyed me and turned every day, every hours, every second without her into agony. I fought every day, not to go down and not to back down to the darkness, which kept on pulling me. But now, I don't have the strenght anymore. I can't and I won't struggle anymore. Don't made up any allegations. Nobody of you could have foreseen this, nor could you have stopped me. It's my decision. I am a broken man and a danger to every single one of you. I kept bringing John in danger and he left a worried wife behind. I'm an addict and although I'm clean now, who can tell, if I'm not going into it again. Even I can't. You will probably ask, how I could to this to Hamish, leaving him behind as an orphan. But I know, he'd be better off without me. What could I possibly do for him? How am I able to raise a child, especially when his mother is not there? I'm sure, John and Mary will take care of him, as he would be their own child. He will have a better childhood, that i would had ever given him._ **

**_I have one last wish. Tell him about Irene. She was a great woman. He should know his mother. Don't tell him about me, he mustn't know about his addict-father. Please take care of him and help him with others. And keep him away from drugs, I don't want him to be anything like me. He shall be like Irene. Nice, loving and smart._ ** **_And now to you, my friends. You know I love you all in my own way and I hope ,you will take care of eachother. Don't be weak like me, stay strong. It's the best for all of us._ **

**_What sould I say now? Goodbye? See you later? It seems odd. There is no heaven or life after death, but I like to believe in it. It would mean I see her there. And we will meet again, although I hope it will last decades for you. So, Goodbye it is._ **

**_William Sherlock Scott Holmes''_ **

John's voice was weak, as he reached the end of the letter. He tried to fight his tears, whilst Molly had started to cry from the first line on and now her body was shaking. Greg looked to the ground and Mary was crying silently. Suddenly John's sad face was gone and the grief made way for anger. ,,This bloody idiot.'', he screamed and jumped up on his feet. ,,How could he?'' He paced up and down angrily and cursed in every language, he could think off. Then life came back to Greg too. ,,When did he gave up fighting? He can't leave like that?!'' John nodded and could barely handle himself not to break something. ,,That was barely fighting. He sat in 221B and grieved all day long. I talked to Mrs.Hudson, she got lucky if she saw once a day. He never played some music or even went out. And he never talked to us. He could've talked to us. We were right here. The entire time. Is it that, what he called fighting? That was nothing.'' he hissed.,,Maybe it's not too late.'', Molly said quietly. Her tears were dryed and she looked at them. ,,Maybe we can still find him. Where could he be, if not in the house, not at Irene's grave or in the morgue?'' John turned around. ,,He could be **Everywhere**. That's the problem. Who knows what's going on in Sherlock Holmes' head?'' Despair was written in his eyes. Molly shook his head. ,,It has to be a place, which has a meaning for him. He wouldn't go just somewhere.'' She looked at her friends. ,,There is one place, we didn't look. We thought, it was too obvious.'', Mary said quietly. ,,221B.'', John said. It seemed plausible. Sherlock could be there without the knowing of Mrs.Hudson. John saw him one time, how he climbed through the window. ,,I'll go. I keep you in touch.'', he said and rushed outside. He got in the car and started it.

Maybe there was still time, maybe it wasn't too late yet.

 


	12. Where the hell are you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has one final idea.

The tires squealed, as he stopped in front of 221B. John slammed the car door shut and locked it up. He crossed the street in no time and reached for his keys. His hands were shaking and it felt like he needed hours to get the right key. John opened the door as quickly as he could and ran upstairs. He almost broke through the door. ,,Sherlock?!'', he called out. No answer, as expected. He looked in every room, even in the attic. Sherlock wasn't in his room, not in John's room nor at the attic. Desperatly he went downstairs to the living room again. Meanwhile he dialed for Mary to tell her the bad news. But when he reentered the living room, John felt odd. Like something was different in this room, but he couldn't directly Point his finger. Out of an urge, he went to the mantelpiece. And saw the skull. It seemed like he was looking out of the window. John shook his head, he was being ridicoulus. Sherlock was not here and he would definitly be that sentimental. John sighed and went downstairs with the phone on his ear. ,,Mary? It's me. Bad news...'' John said and opened the door, about to leave, when Mrs.Hudson came out of her flat. ,,John?'', she asked. John looked at her, surprised. ,,Hang on, Mary.'', he said and turned to the landlady. ,,Have you seen Sherlock today, Mrs.Hudson?'', he asked her, merely begging for a positive answer. ,,Yes, I have, actually. He came in quite early this morning. I caught him, when he sneaked out of the flat. He said he had forgot his keys.'' John blinked at her and frowned. Sherlock would never forget his keys. But what would he look for in this flat? ,,John?'', Mrs.Hudson asked worried, as she didn't get an answer. ,,He didn't forget his keys...'', he said slowly, a new thought emerging into his mind. John put the phone back to his ear. ,,He came here to get _her_ keys. I know, where he is.'', John said and went out of the door. ,,John, what's going on?'', Mrs.Hudson called. ,,No time, Mrs.Hudson. I have to go. I'll explain later.'' He got into the car and put Mary on speaker. ,,I know, where he is. He is at the place it all started. The place, where it all started with Irene. You were right, he was here... to get the keys for her place. Tell Greg to come to 44 Eaton square in Belgravia. Hurry.'' Then he hung up and pulled into traffic.

**He needs to be there. He needs to be there.** John repeated those words quietly as he drove through London. He was nearly there as a silverish car passed. Greg's car. John could see Molly and even the blond mob of hair from Mary. He was so tense, that he nearly crashed into them. But then he managed to park right behind Greg. They all got out at the same time and John noticed Hamish in Mary's arms. ,,You...you brought him here?'', he hissed. ,,Should I have left him alone?'', Mary glared at him. John nodded absent. ,,Sorry. I'm a little tense.'' They went straight to number 44 and John tried to open the door, which was surprisingly open. ,,He's here.'', Molly whispered and Greg nodded. He and John agreed on splitting up. Greg and Molly would look downstairs, while John and Mary took the 1st floor. ,,You go left. I check here.'', John said and Mary went, with Hamish in her arms, to the first door on her side. John sighed and hoped that they would find him in time. Deep in thoughts he opened the door to the bedroom and froze. There he was.

His best friend lay on the white rug unconcious and cleary nearer death than life. His face was peaceful and a smile graced his lips, as he would be in paradise. But no, not completly. There was this small flicker of sadness around the corner of his lips, which told John he was still alive, still in agony. After a few, but counting seconds he rushed to Sherlock's side and searched for a pulse. ,,Greg! Molly!'', he cried out as loud as he could. Then he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Greg was there at first. ,,I found him. Call an ambulance and bring Mary. She can help me. Let Molly take Ham. He mustn't see his Dad like that.'' Greg nodded and went out of the room again. John heard faded voices, but he was more concentrated on Sherlock. His eyes were closed, but as John lifted one of his eye lids, he noticed the heavily dialated pupils. Sherlock's already pale skin was unusually dry and he was feverish. John found a pulse, but it was very weak. Finally Mary rushed in. She stopped for a second as she saw Sherlock lying there, but she put herself together pretty quickly and went to John's side. ,,What can I do?'', she asked him. John breathed heavily. ,,I need to know, what he took. Probably an overdose.'' Mary looked around in hurry and finally found the phial and the photograph in Sherlock's hands. It was him and Irene on their wedding day. Both of them happy and smiling. Mary tried to get the phial, that was held by Sherlock's hand. ,,There. It wasn't an overdose.'', she said and passed him the bottle. John looked at it in precise, there was a rest of red fluid in it. John smelled on it and made a wry in disgust. John threw it away and put a hand on his forehand. ,,No. No.'', John said and started to massage Sherlock's heart. ,,Don't you die on me, Sherlock.'' ,,What is it?'', Mary asked fearfully. ,,It's Belladonna, Devil's cherry. I have to keep his heart beating until he's in hospital. There will be an antidot and possibilities to clear his body from this, but he could die right here, if his heart stops or he doesn't breath anymore.'', John said in between breaths of such effort, he put into the life saving techiques. He tried to listen for the sirens.

Mary helped as good as she could and steadied Sherlock's body. She knew John would think, that it was his fault, if his best friend would die under his hands. And he wouldn't forgive himself. He wouldn't be able to raise the child, whose father he had let died. She took the scarf off and placed it under Sherlock's head to prevent a head trauma. And finally he heard them. Loud and demanding sirens came towards their Location. Two paramedics rushed upstairs and went into the room. They paused for a second. ,,We will take over from here.'', one of them said. John nodded and went back. The other took his place. ,,What did he took?'' John cleared his throat and swallowed his tears. ,,Belladonna.'' The paramedic cursed. ,,When? Is he allergic to something?'' John shook his head. The paramedics put an oxygen mask over his face and put him on a stretcher. Then they brought him to the ambulance. John and Mary went down with them and stood beside their friends. Everyone watched the ambulance, as it drove off, with yelling sirens and their friend on board.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay guys. *begs for forgiveness*


	13. Awaken I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit.

Everything around him was **dark**.

No light, not a spark broke through the etern darkness, which surrounded him completly.

Where was he? Was he dead?

Is that heaven? The life beyond? No, it couldn't be.

Not, after what hd experienced just few seconds ago. No, he had been hearing voices. Panicing voices. They were indistinct, but he was sure there were voices.

A particular voice had stood out. **Hers.** It was clear to him and it kept calling his name, but he was certain it was a ghost in his mind. The words, she said, spun around inside him. Her picture gathered up in front of his inner eye, while he listened to it. His heart clinched painfully.

Then he noticed the silent humming, that washed around him. Again, the question rose up in his mind, where he was, but he banned it quickly from his head. He hadn't enough to go with to answer that. Just this devouring darkness and the quiet humming, right beside him. In addition to that he soon figured that he was laying. Something soft. His head was sunken into a pillow and he could feel the small weight of a blanket on his body. He felt his arms right beside him, on top of the blanket, but as he tried to move them just an inch, they wouldn't do so. They felt some sort of numb. Resisting his commands. Also a small pain was spreading from his head, not much hurtful, but uncomfortable to deal with.

Suddenly he grew conscious of the smell, which had been in his nose the whole time and a constant beeping, he couldn't assign directly to something. It was the sudden awareness of this smell, which brought him back to the part of his teenage days, he would love to forget. The slightly acrid and aseptic scent was bound to be the private hospital, where many doctors had tried to keep him alive after some incidents, which occured within his habit.

An unpleasant memory.

But he forced the past into the back of his mind quickly and focused on the here and now. It wasn't good to live in the past, he knew that now and he would do everything to stay in the present and not to drift away again. Focus. The pictures he had seen were so clear, he wouldn't or couldn't forget about them. What could be and what should be, was now up to him. Again he forced his thought to his current location and tried to explore his situation with the senses that were still in his might.

Voices appeared into the quiet humming. Too far away to be understood, but close enough, so that he could recognise a quite familiar one. But again his mind wasn't as clear as he wished it to be and he couldn't think of a name or face. Then he heard street noises to his left and felt the slight breeze, which caressed his face and whispered through the curtains. Apparently a window to his left was opened. That would explain the increasing warmth on Sherlock's left half of his face, which was probably caused by a sunbeam, that went throught the window. But if the sun was able to shine right into his face, wouldn't the room be bathed in sunlight? And wouldn't he also be able to recognise at least some conturs?

And as if someone had switched on a light, he wasn't surrounded by darkness anymore, it had made room for a bright orange, which danced on his closed lids. Right then he noticed, that his eyes were closed and he tried immediatly to open one of them. But with no sucess. He gave up on it and devoted his will on other things. If he couldn't open his eyes or move his arms as he had tried before, would he be able to move in general? Panic gathered up inside him, as he tried to lift his arms again and failed the second time. Even his fingers and toes resisted on a tiny movement.

Did his body left him in the lurch? Had it been to late? Did the poison caused such damage, before they found him? He knew they had found him, just as he was about to slip off. And he even believed, that he had heard sirens from the London ambulance.

The distant voices went quiet and he heard silent footsteps. A door was opened, his door, and the footsteps came closer to his bed. The same person, which footsteps he had heard, took a seat next to him and started to talk. ,,Hello Sherlock. It's me. I'm sorry, I couldn't be here sooner. Oh man, if you just wake up, I could talk to you from face to face. You know, I miss your voice. And our conversations, even when you talked and I didn't listen or wasn't even there.'', the man chuckled, it had to be man. ,,The doctors don't know, why you are still sleeping and neither do I. They tried everything, and believe me, I made sure of that. Now we can just wait, they say. They also don't know, if you are going to wake up ever again or if you will suffer from some damages. They aren't clear about the extent and how much it affected your system. I saw the CT and there is no visible damage to your brain, but we are not sure about your nerve system. But that wouldn't matter at all, if you just wake up!'', the voice continued sadly.

,,I am awake, I am here.'', Sherlock wanted to scream, but not a word came across his lips and the visitor went on speaking to him. Sherlock had recogniced him as his best friend and blogger. _John._ He continued with a gentle tone in his voice. ,,There are some news, since I was here the last time. Molly and Greg finally moved in together. They are done now with renovation. Of course we helped, but in my opinion it took ages. Mish lives currently with us and we actually managed to finally move the children's room into our house. Well, she doesn't want to infect him and I understand that. She should really recover from thisdamn flu, that been bugging her for the past three weeks sickness, but you know, how she is and she keeps on visiting you, even if I tell her not to. Mary and I got used to it and you should hear both of them fight sometimes.'' John chuckled again quietly. ,,But after an hour everything is fine again. They can't stay mad at eachother. And then they're laughing and chatting like nothing occured.''

All of the sudden there was a yawn, followed by quiet grumbling. Sherlock heard some rustling and tried for the second time to open his eyes to see the source of the noise, but again it was impossible. Then he felt a light touching on his right arm and noticed, that something warm and soft was placed there. John's voices reached his ears again. ,,Look, mate. It's your daddy. Look! No, no, don't fall asleep again. If you sleep any longer, Mary will be furious again, because you wont sleep in the evening. You are just like your daddy, aren't you? But you have to stay awake now, little boy.'' Sherlock was painfully aware now, that this little, warm bundle to his right was indeed his son. But as hard as he tried, he couldn't open his eyes and look into his little son's face. He jearned to see him, his little Hamish. He wanted to say, that he was sorry. That he should have never left him alone and that he wouldn't do it ever again. He wanted to say him, that he loved him. But he couldn't and it teared him up inside.

He was forced to remain silent, and that... maybe forever. Sherlock couldn't tell him, that it was stupid, what his father did. And he couldn't tell him, that he knew better now and that he wouldn't leave him ever again, at least not on free will. He was just laying there and felt the warmth and the slight movements, which came from his son. There was John's voice again and pulled him out of his melancolic thoughts. ,,No, don't. Ham, I need my car keys. You know, you can't chew on them.'', he said with a laugh. At the same time he heard the quiet giggle of the little child, which seemed to have fun by teasing his godfather. John went on talking with a sadder tone, after he got back his keys from the little boy's hands. ,,He misses you, Sherlock. I know, you think, that he can't miss you, because he doesn't know you or doesn't remember you, but you're wrong. He is incredibly smart. He's got that from you and his Mommy. We put a picture of you and Irene near his bed, so that you two are the first and the last thing, he sees during the day. Mary probably told you that yesterday. I'm sorry, I haven't visited you for a week, but everything is happening right now. There is an epidemic flu rush coming up and then Greg and Molly... but the most important is, that Ham is with you as often as possible. If you could just wake up and see him. He has grown so much and he keeps on growing. Right now Mary is buying new clothes for him. The others are too small for him. And the knitted sweater Mrs.Hudson and Molly gave him last christmas, is also to small. Mary told them last week and they are actually sitting on a new one for him...'' John kept talking, but Sherlock wasn't listening and he drifted away, concentrating on the words he had heard and which spun around in his head now.

_,,...misses you...'' ,,...keeps growing...'' ,,....too small for him...'' ,,...last christmas...''_

Until now he thought it would have been a few days, maybe a week or two, but the words of his best friend confused him. Was his feeling for time misplaced? Did he missed more time? Months, a year or possibly, he didn't dare to even think of it, **years**? Was it possible, that this stupid, stupid choice had costed him some counting years with his son? Was he, at the end almost a schoolkid, which has forgotten about his father and which called John ,,Daddy'' instead of him? What, if his son didn't need him anymore?

Fear spread inside him. Everything, that happened during this time, was his fault and he had to deal with it. Even if this means, that he had become a stranger in his son's life. But he promised to himself, that he would do anything for his son, if he would need him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls don't kill me. *runsforcover*  
> But feel free to comment. XD


	14. Let's info y'all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some information for those who kept on waiting for new stuff.

Hey there, fellow Adlock-yachters!

First of all I want to apologise for the delay. A lot has been going on. And i've done a lot of reading and then re-reading this fanfiction and i came to the realisation, that i don't like bits of it anymore.  
So here is the thing. I'm gonna rewrite the whole story, add and delete and then upload it. there will be an old and a new version on this account. so fans of the old version wont miss it, if liked better.

it will take me a while, but this one, the old one will remain unfinished. (if needed, i'll upload a short summary on the end of the old version)  
The ending wont change, i have a clear vision of the end, just a few knacks will change, which wont affect the main storyline. 

so this is it.   
all the news i wanted to add. I hope you understand, but if i dont like it i cant stand uploading it for you guys.   
it seems not right to give you something i dont approve as the author. i hope you understand. 

 

so to all, who waited and read this until here... a huge thank you. for the kudos, review and most of all the patience. 

i keep you updated.  
and hopefully until next new chapter.

Yours truly,   
ShereneCheri


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